


In the eye of the storm

by Eromenos



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eromenos/pseuds/Eromenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Royal Rumble was his welcome to the big leagues, and what an incredible welcome it was. This should have been a point in any athlete’s career to be humble - not walk around with a chip on their shoulder. It was here, at this point, that Jericho realized he didn’t like him.</p>
<p>He respected him. But he didn’t like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the eye of the storm

While he was well-known in the wrestling circuits around the world, AJ Styles was still a “fresh” face in the WWE. Jericho could tell, though, that this annoyed him: that an admittedly skilled and seasoned talent such as Styles was constantly treated like a rookie since his debut. Hell, he knows that feeling. He knew that feeling. But the fact that this annoyed Styles annoyed Jericho. Styles was a newcomer. And the Royal Rumble was his welcome to the big leagues, and what an incredible welcome it was. This should have been a point in any athlete’s career to be humble - not walk around with a chip on their shoulder.

It was here, at this point, that Jericho realized he didn’t like him.

He respected him.

But he didn’t like him.

It was Monday Night Raw, the day after AJ’s big debut, and Jericho was slated to be AJ’s first real opponent. Not to say that the Rumble wasn’t real, but this wasn’t a game either. This was AJ’s first authentic big league match, and it was against Jericho. Y2-fucking-J, former World Heavyweight Champion.

And he won. Styles won.

A quick flip, Jericho down onto the mat, three counts. Over. AJ stood up and looked.. looked. He stood up with this look … of well. Jericho couldn’t exactly place it. Satisfaction? It wasn’t elation. It wasn’t “Hey I just fucking won my first fucking match in the WWE!” It was something more controlled than that, as if just fulfilling a role. AJ Styles entered the ring with the certainty he would be the victor - this wasn’t any sort of rookie’s fluke.

AJ Styles was a whirlwind, and Jericho realized he just entered the eye of the storm.

Moments after the match, still in their wrestling gear, they briefly met behind the scenes. Chris was still a bit stunned by the sound and fury of what happened just moments ago, but he had collected himself to the point of realizing that He Just Lost. And it was such a sweet loss as well. 

AJ had his back towards him, walking along to the locker rooms in silence. With the small bounce in his step, the pride in his stride, Jericho could tell that he looked pretty content with himself. Chris walked over to him and called to his attention.

“Good match out there.” Jericho said, arm extended, the intention of nothing but wellbeing being conveyed to the man before him.

“Thanks.” AJ Styles said shortly, reaching out to take Jericho’s hand with that slight air of caution. Jericho smirked. 

“It’s fine, I won’t bite.” he said before gripping the gloved hand just a little harder. He might.

AJ only smirked in kind.

“I didn’t say you would.” He said before letting go. “Thanks again.” he said, nodding his head, a little less wary, a little more honest. “Hell of a match.” He said with a short chuckle, eyes widened a bit as he smiled.

“Sure was.” Jericho said, still smirking. He brought his hand to his jaw - still felt that flying forearm. Will still be feeling that.

AJ only nodded. “Well, I’m going to go change.” he said unceremoniously, then turned and then left.

Y2J stood there in silence and watched him go.

Jericho respected him. But he still didn’t like him, but now his thoughts were consumed by him. Mind continuously wandering back to the adrenaline spreading to every extremity, fueling muscles and senses with power as he was caught in violent winds. Fast, forceful, ferocious.

That was Monday. Then it became Tuesday. Plenty of movement happened in between days, a flurry of hotels, cars, planes - not many trains - can’t make that reference (God how old are you Jericho - oh right, 45). All of this and yet...

Chris kept on thinking back to the first match, and he was helpless. And he knew it.

And this is where the story begins.

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT KNOW WHAT I'M DOING


End file.
